


Lines in the Sand

by RoseAmaranth



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Cute, Drunken Shenanigans, Emotional Comfort, Fluff, Hopeful Ending, I Ship It, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Mizler, One-Shot, Proposals, Reminicing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:21:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23574565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseAmaranth/pseuds/RoseAmaranth
Summary: It wasn't exactly how he saw this day going, but it was exactly what he needed.Dolph is reminiscing on the beach he's loved since he was just a boy.
Relationships: The Miz/Dolph Ziggler
Kudos: 3





	Lines in the Sand

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the prompt: _Person A drawing their names together in the sand_

He loved the beach at any time of the year. Living in California for your whole life would do that to you. He adored it in the springtime, when there was still the leftover chill from winter in the air and the beaches weren't as congested as the summertime. Weddings were often hosted on the cool sands, Dolph attending many of them when he was younger. There were the proposals too, the warm sunshine seemingly coming out from hiding just for your special moment.

The summer was hot, the beaches crowded and food far more expensive than usual, but he loved seeing the many families spread along the sand, sandcastles every few feet and siblings fighting over seashells they found in the sand for their parents. The occasional person buried to their neck in sand. Teen boys running around, surfer physiques and California tans, with girls hanging onto their backs, their squeals warring with the cries of the seagulls looking for their next meal. He visited less at that time – especially a beach like Venice Beach – but he loved the atmosphere all the same. 

Winter brought cold winds off the ocean, buffeting his windbreakers and sending salty spray into your face if you ventured too close to the water. It was nearly always abandoned, save for the surfer boys not quite able to kick the addiction to danger. He would sometimes stand just out of reach of the waves, the gusts of wind tugging his hair and soaking his skin with the scent of salt and sea, and the occasional burst of sunshine turned a dreadful day at the beach into a pleasant afternoon.

Fall, otherwise known as 'Autumn', was the season closest to his heart, though it had little to do with the actual beach. Especially around the month of October, he would find himself wandering down the beach. Sometimes alone. Other times with someone there with him. He welcomed the cooler days and increasingly empty beaches, families backed up and heading home for school and work. The sunsets in the autumn were something else entirely, and it made him wish he could transfer their beauty onto a canvas.

Yes, he loved the beach. Cliché as that may be for someone living where he did. Even more cliché was the fact he lived close enough to a little beach to enjoy it whenever he wanted; it was just a two-minute walk, practically his backyard. He lived in a nice little place hidden away from prying eyes or curious tourists, which meant his beach was also mostly untouched by anyone else.

Despite how close it was, he rarely spent his days there anymore. Particularly over this past year. He found it harder to get there anyway as age stole his strength and energy, and lately he was less motivated to make the effort to go and walk through the sand than normal. Today, however, was a special occasion, so he put on a warm jacket, his sandals, and made his way down to the beach. Whenever he stepped out onto his back porch early enough in the morning – or close enough to sunset – he could make out the silvery ripples of a passing pod of dolphins among the waves. It was closer to four o'clock at the moment, so he wouldn't get to see them today.

A shame, because his partner loved to see them. No matter how many times they passed, Dolph would be dragged out of bed at the crack of dawn and out onto the porch to watch the dolphins pass. Sometimes they were even able to get down to the beach before they could get away. 

There were so many memories buried in the sands of this particular beach, both the distant and recent past, and most of them were long-since washed away by the never-ending waves. His mind held onto them for the most part, and he was thankful considering what day it was. He could pick through them and hold up the most interesting to the brilliant sunlight. Examine them. Laugh a little before moving on to another. 

Memories of his days back in college, when he and his friends thought they were untouchable and going to conquer the world one day...

* * *

For some reason, they liked to sit around on the beach and get stupid drunk. It was dangerous, considering how close to the ocean they were, but John swore he could save them all no matter what, and they, of course, trusted his word, so they threw caution to the wind and burned through a case of beer in an hour at the most. Like a lot of the people their age, they were free from college from the summer and running head-first into the first stupid thing they could get their hands on. That being, sitting around a fire on the beach and getting drunk.

The crew changed in size through the years – people coming and going as they grew and changed – but the four core members always remained. Zack, a guy five years younger than Dolph and not from the area at all. He was a great laugh, though; especially when he got drunk. He also really lived the stereotypical college frat boy life, partying more than any of them combined. He blasted The Backstreet Boys all hours of the day, ate disgusting food, and had this weird obsession with cats. Dolph liked him in moderation.

John was a year older than Dolph and probably one of the most uncool cool people he's ever known. The guy looked like he should be on the covers of GQ and Men's Health and on silver screens across the country, yet he spoke about Star Wars and time travel like his life depended on it. He was obsessed with dorky things you wouldn't think a guy like him would care about, and it made him all the more enjoyable to be around. His passion while talking about the things he loved was contagious. Nearly enough to get Dolph into the theater to watch the latest sci-fy movie. 

Almost.

Girls were attracted to him like bees to flowers or flies to honey, but he preferred flipping through his Collector's Edition Star Wars...book and chatting about the books he's been reading lately. Ridiculously hilarious, watching girls fawn all over him and how John seemed oblivious to it all. 

Dolph prided himself on being the best at everything in their group. The best at karaoke night at the pub in town. The best at whatever sport he decided to get into. The best in school. The one who could do the most push-ups, or who could jump onto a low branch and perform chin-ups, just because. And though he fought over the title with John, he liked to think he was the best looking– in their school too. At least, girls seemed to think so. 

He was also the best at having feelings for people who would never look at him in that way, which actually brought him to the fourth and final member of the group. The idiot making 'sand angels' while John poured beer on his face, trying to get the stream into his mouth so he could drink it. Really? 

Mike was probably the most...'normal' out of all of them. Average in school. Average boyish good looks (according to the ever objective society standards, anyway). He didn't die over nerdy things – like John – but wasn't all that athletically inclined- like Dolph. He enjoyed sports, watched wrestling on Channel 9, and didn't mind going out and having a good time. Average in ways that mattered to people their age, barely acquainted with the world around them, but he had this talent for entertaining an entire room of strangers with a simple story. He was one of the most amusing people to be around at any given time, and he always managed to draw a crowd whenever they went out. Always the life of every college party, and he carried this confidence that was unmatched by anyone. 

Seriously, you could not rattle him. Ever.

Dolph rolled his eyes at the mess a few feet away from him, John's laughter getting lost in the ocean waves crashing against the sand. Mike rolled away from a sharp protest, narrowly avoiding a can chucked at his head, and bumped into Dolph's leg. The marshmallow he was roasting dropped into the fire, so he glared down at the fever-bright eyes, manic smile, and drunken laughter. A ray of light and a breath of fresh air, but he kept that to himself. Always locked away tight. Mike craned his neck and giggled at whatever expression he found on Dolph's face.

The four of them became friends at different times, but they stuck close even years later. Mike and John knew each other the longest – since they were kids – and Zack came around last, but you couldn't tell any of that by looking at them. You might think they've been friends since they were small, the way they fell into each other. The way they teased and jeered and loved one another. And, if you knew what to look for, you could probably pick out the fool pining after one of the other members of the group.

That was him, by the way.

“Can you make me a s'more? Pretty please?” Dolph jiggled his leg until Mike finally shifted away, though he didn't sit up right away. Just blinked up at him and begged for what he wanted with a stupid pout and puppy dog eyes he couldn't ever seem to keep from falling for. Really, they shouldn't work that well on him. But, if he was honest, he didn't mind giving in a lot of the time. Even if it was something he really didn't care for doing. Like making stupid s'mores when he too was drunk.

“Why can't you make your own?” Even as he asked the question, he stabbed his stick through another marshmallow and stuck it into the flames dancing over the pile of wood Zack put together like a proper boy scout. While he turned the little sugar puff, keeping it from burning on one side, Mike sat up and swayed into him. Not bothering to put distance between them. Alcohol and cologne mixed in the sliver of space between their bodies, twisting his stomach around while he focused on turning the puff around and around. On keeping his fingers from slipping and dropping the stick into the sand- again.

Somehow it was still intoxicating in the best way. Stronger than any drink. He cleared his throat and tried to ignore the way toasted sugar and chocolate complemented whatever it was Mike was wearing that smelled like that. The cheap alcohol was the only sour note, and it was being drowned out by smoke and burning wood and the ocean at the moment. 

“Well, I _can._ But why do that when I have this amazing, incredible, fantastic best friend in the whole world who could do it?” John stumbled towards his place around the fire, glaring at Mike once he captured his seat once more. He never understood their little looks- that secret language they seemed to speak telepathically. Blowing out the flames charring the marshmallow, he glanced over at Mike – still leaning on him – and shrugged one shoulder.

“Maybe next time you can ask him, then.” Mike huffed, not amused by the joke. John and Zack both gagged and make retching noises, like they ate something foul, and John rolled his eyes for good measure. 

“Dude, we all know you now wear that title. Snatched it off me the day you sat next to him in Chem 201.” He didn't think it was technically true, but he wasn't really in the mood to argue it either. Alcohol made him sleepy, even with sugar-charged energy buzzing under his skin. He lazily finished off the s'more and nagged Mike into sitting properly so he didn't freaking choke. They were still sat so close, crumbs from the treat fell on him. 

Normally, he liked his personal space, but there was always the exception. 

They sipped at bottles of beer, Mike crunching every few minutes, and shared stories they've probably told dozens of times. John and Zack fell into a heated argument, one Dolph was struggling to follow now. 

“I'm full. Want it?” The nibbled-on dessert was offered to him, nearly going in his mouth when he tried to decline. The argument across from them died as quickly as it came, John snorting and falling back on the sand, staring up at the sky and humming a song. Zack tried (and failed) to play a matching tune with a couple beer bottles and cans, while Dolph finally (begrudgingly) accepted the half-eaten dessert sandwich Mike didn't want. As soon as he did, that warm weight fell against him again, Mike trying to hum along with John but both of them were horribly off-time and off-key. 

Abruptly, the song cut off, John pointing up at the sky while Mike played with Dolph's shirt. “You ever just...stare at the stars? And think about how insignificant our existence is in the universe?” He swallowed down a groan.

For some reason, alcohol turned John into a philosophical thinker, so he would ask all these stupidly deep questions while everyone was trying to enjoy their buzz. Mike threw something over the fire, laughing at the noise John made when it hit him.

“If I wanted to talk about _stars,_ I would take an astronomy class.” Zack cackled, rolling around the sand and nearly catching his pant leg on fire. 

“I need a new friend group. My IQ goes down ten points every time I'm around you idiots.” John sat up and made a rude noise. Zack flipped him off (still laughing uncontrollably) and Mike merely scoffed, shifting against him and sending these little sparks through him. 

“Like you could find anyone as cool and funny as us. Well, except Zack. We could replace him easy.” John interrupted the protest (and coming argument) with loud singing, Dolph joining in with a laugh. They made it through three songs before John was pinched by an aggravated crab, the drunken idiots scrambling away before tripping over one another and falling into the sand. 

Dolph, the only one _not_ scared of a teeny tiny crab, shook his head and burned another marshmallow.

Later, he found himself standing just out of reach of the tide, staring out at the ocean and admiring the rippling reflection of the full moon. There was something nearly hypnotic about the glassy water and cool wind tugging at his hair, lulling him into a trance. Probably helped along by his sleepy drunken state. He glanced over at the bodies sprawled out around the fire, which was slowly dying out, and picked out the one that's been leaning on him for most of the night. His chest felt tight as he thought about everything he's kept inside for so long. The secrets he's locked away. 

Oh how easy it was, imagining them together. Too easy. And he thought about the possibilities often. But it was a lot to gamble. Seven years and he was no closer to figuring out what to do than he was when they met. With a long sigh, he toed the wet sand, drawing a line with his toe before covering it once more with his heel. Which somehow led to him kneeling down and dragging his finger through the sand, goofy smile spread across his lips as he admired the pair of initials like an idiot. If only...

“You okay, man?” Of course Mike had to be the one to wake up and wander over. He was close to where he sat in the sand, so he quickly scrubbed out the writing and staggered to his feet. Just in time for Mike to collide into him and nearly knock them over. He giggled, gripping Dolph's shirt tightly. “Sorry.”

Mike looked all over the sand, then turned his soft sleepy gaze on Dolph. Man, it wasn't fair how he looked, and he had to swallow down the words fighting to come out. If there was going to be a time, it wasn't then. Standing on the beach, drunk and tired as they were. They weren't in any right mind for a conversation about emotions and the ramifications of his particular feelings for his best friend. Mike looked ready to sleep on his feet, Dolph holding him up.

“Go back to sleep.” If John was a philosopher drunk, Mike was the clingy koala type. He refused to budge.

“But it's _cold_ over there. I was freezing.” Well, maybe if he didn't wear a tank top and shorts – or at least thought to bring a jacket, like the rest of them did – he wouldn't have to worry about it. Dolph dragged them over to the other sleeping figures and finally untangled himself from Mike. His friend pouted again, arms crossed and defiance in the rigid set to his shoulders and the way his jaw jutted out. Probably meant to be intimidating, but Dolph was overwhelmed with fondness.

“You need to learn to bring a jacket. As often as we come here, you'd think you'd remember by now.” Luckily, Dolph was used to bringing along an extra sweatshirt. Mike pulled it on quickly, hair fluffing up when his head reappeared and tugging at Dolph's heartstrings. “One of these times I'm not bringing an extra for you. Then you'll remember.”

Looking at how cute and cuddly he looked in Dolph's hoodie, he knew there was no way he could carry through with his threat. And he definitely couldn't sleep knowing one of his friends was cold and stupid. 

“Well, that's not so bad. Then I could just huddle against you for warmth. It's like you're a furnace or something.” Yep. Delete that image from his brain. No sense teasing and torturing himself when it wouldn't lead anywhere with him. Not anything Dolph wanted it to, anyway. 

Before he could retort, Mike flopped down in his previous spot and tugged Dolph down with him. Normally, he could keep himself from being pulled down, but he was drunk and sleepy, so he went down easily, landing on top of Mike. Fingers dug into his hips, Mike's laugh turning husky underneath him. This close, he felt like he was caught in a bear trap. Captured. And something about seeing him wrapped up in his green college sweater made it that much better. The fire reflected in curious blue eyes, so he pushed away and picked a spot a safe distance away from the campfire. 

And maybe from Mike too, flames threatening to consume him the longer he sat there. 

Not that it did any good, apparently. He woke up at sunrise, groggy and hungover, to find Mike wrapped around him. Still sleeping as the day whispered her existence.

* * *

Though he rarely made it out to the beach these days, his favorite time to be there was in the early morning. The sunrise on the water and the feeling of cool wet sand under his toes, The majestic dolphins. The turtles he sometimes saw crawling along the sand. No matter the day he was having, this little place always managed to soothe him. To bring him peace and clarity in fluffy pinkish clouds and a breeze seasoned with seawater. 

Today was a special day. An anniversary he celebrated even when there was no one around and no one left to celebrate it with. His friends from college moved away and eventually lost contact with him. They grew up, fell in love, made money, and continued the cycle of human existence since the dawn of time. But this day celebrated life with the one friend who never slipped away. The one person he always wanted by his side.

And if he was the only one there at the end of it all, then he was happy. 

One of his absolute favorite memories from this beach was the day he made that lifetime promise to the only person he couldn't see himself getting tired of being around. Rain or shine, valley or mountain, he knew it was forever he wanted. He kicked at the sand, his smile growing as he stepped through the door to the day he proposed on this very beach.

* * *

Dolph never felt so nervous in his entire life. So much could go wrong and he still didn't have what he wanted to say figured out. He was shit at speeches – always was – and now he was having to rely on giving the perfect one. And with emotions strangling him and every possible way it could all go wrong playing through his head, it was becoming an impossible task. So, he left his table and busied himself with finding the perfect spot.

Except this wasn't going right either. He paced along the sand, trying to find that special place. Not too close to the water. Not too far up the sand that it couldn't be seen from where they would be walking. The sun was heavy today, bathing him in sweat as he tugged at his hair and prayed this next spot was the one. This needed to be special. Romantic, which was something he wasn't consistently great at. He could admit that. 

He needed to put the effort, to show just how much this meant to him, but no one bothered to mention how hard this was. How stressful.

Time was running out, so he picked up a solid stick and dragged out familiar lines and curves in the sand. Placing the seashells he's been collecting for weeks artistically around it before stepping back to examine his work. It was not what he hoped, but it would have to be enough. Swallowing his anxiety, he pulled out his phone and – with trembling fingers – typed out a simple message. Nothing urgent. Nothing that would give him away. 

Surprise was the key, or so he was told. 

His throat was too dry and his shirt was soaked through with sweat- not just from the heat. His chest bubbled up like champagne when he read the responding message and set off to get ready.

“You didn't say we needed to dress up for this walk.” Mike stepped out of his truck, pulling his sunglasses off as he stepped down the sandy dunes and tugged Dolph into a long kiss. He still couldn't believe how lucky he was that this got to be his life, and hopefully it was going to get so much better. They parted, allowing Dolph to really take in what his partner was wearing: colorful board shorts, black Nike slides (with no socks, thankfully), and a summery orange tank top with _No Shoes. No Shirt. No Problems_ printed in black cursive down the front.

In other words, he looked sexy as hell. 

“It's the _beach,_ babe. You don't dress up for it.” Hand on his hip, Mike gestured to what he was wearing. 

“So I take it you have a date after this, then?” He nudged his idiot boyfriend with his elbow and grabbed his hand. Honestly, he didn't think what he was wearing was very dressy at all, but as he looked between them, he could now see that he sort of was. Black polo shirt. Khaki shorts. Even his hair was done up nicely, smoothly tucked into a bun.

He was excited, okay?

“You know-” he spoke softly, swinging their hands between them and keeping closer than normal “- a lot of our relationship is tied to this beach.” Mike hummed in agreement, touching his mouth to the top of his head as they walked. Okay. He could do this. 

“I mean, how many summer nights did we sit here with our friends, getting drunk and burning marshmallows while John tried to tell us about the 'dangers of complacency' or something and we just pretended to know what was even going on?” Their pace was leisurely, taking in the setting sun and bending down to pick up any seashells that interested them, though his heart urged him to drag Mike down the beach and just get this over with.

The anxiety was eating him alive. 

“We dd have a lot of fun here, huh? Still do, sometimes.” It was a good thing this beach was closed to the public. Somehow, Mike convinced him once to going down there, laying a large blanket out, and tossing their clothes into the sand. He could admit the cuddling was nice, with the sound of the waves crashing as the soundtrack and the sunlight painting their bare skin in reds and golds as it sank into the ocean for the night.

They didn't do that too often, though. Dolph was always paranoid someone would stumble on them and call in a report to the local police department (even though, technically, it was a private beach). 

“Our first 'I love you' was here too. I still remember the face you made when I said it.” It wasn't always so easy to believe Mike loved him the way Dolph loved him– having felt that way for so long and not seeing it returned in any way. So, when he pressed a kiss into his mouth while accepting a pretty seashell he happened to uncover and tacked on a simple easy 'love you', like it was something they said all the time, he couldn't quite catch himself before the awestruck wonder and blissful joy took over his face. 

Dolph said it for the first time a little while later. Still cautious that any minute the rug would be yanked out from under him and his heart would shatter on the floor. He said it, softly and with raw emotion, over dinner one night. Mike's expression, normally playful and teasing, turned serious as they stared at each other, Dolph's heart in his throat. His eyes went glassy, filling with not just tears, but unbridled joy. Love. Affection. 

“There were so many times I wanted to tell you how I felt. Back when we came out here and littered the sand with beer and soda cans while blowing through bags of marshmallows and chocolate. John got pretty sick of me after a while.” They stopped to watch a hermit crab fit himself inside a shell, Dolph wrapping his hands around Mike's arm. 

“Really? I don't think you've told me that before.” He figured Mike's feelings came much later; after college and internships and booze-filled nights they left behind for coffee in the morning. But if John knew, then that was a long time ago. Years. 

“Yeah. I kind of always had this...this feels so silly to say, even though we've been dating for two years...but I had this crush on you. I mean, duh. Have you looked in a mirror? And then we became friends, close friends, and after years of that I had no choice but to fall for you. Which was pretty scary at only nineteen, let me tell you.” This was all news to him. He had no clue! “And then there was the fact I thought there was no possible way you could look at me like that. I was ninety percent sure you were straight. Like John.”

He wasn't, not at all, so that amused him greatly. Especially because he thought the exact same thing about Mike. 

“I bet John really hated us.” Mike rolled his eyes. 

“You don't know the half of it! He complained _all the time_ about how dumb and blind we were for not seeing what was so obviously there. How into each other we were. And he told me if I 'forget' my sweater one more time, he was going to drown me in the ocean while you were sleeping.” Dolph stopped them again, gaping at him. Hold on for one minute! Mike shrugged, though his grin turned sheepish. “I never expected you to like me like that, but you're such a nice guy and you always let me invade your space. I now know _why,_ but at the time I figured you were just being a good friend. Which I definitely took advantage of. That, and your mother hen instincts.”

“You didn't bring anything to keep warm with...on purpose?” They were nearing the spot, the velvet box in his pocket burning his skin, but he couldn't fight how much this surprised him. Mike ducked his head and squeezed his hand.

“I liked wearing yours. And as you've come to find out, I prefer snuggling to wearing clothes to keep me warm.” He really was a blind fool, wasn't he?

“How did I not- I feel like an idiot. Here I just thought you were forgetful. Or maybe trying to prove you're a tough guy and don't need sweaters on a cold beach.” Mike tugged his close, one arm snaked around his middle while his other hand skimmed along Dolph's jaw. Thumb coming to press against his bottom lip.

“Nope. Just stupid crazy about you and having no clue what to do about it other than make myself suffer so you would offer me some help.” Dolph pulled him into another kiss, letting the giddy bubbly energy consume him. Everything about this was going better than he could have imagined or planned.

It seemed to take centuries but they finally reached the point where Dolph was going to pop the question. Mike was lazily kissing along his jaw and down his neck, apparently having something else in mind for their walk. Hot promises being pressed into his skin nearly distracted him, but he managed to find his focus once again and cleared his throat.

“There was one night we were on the beach and I wandered off down the beach. Just looking up at the moon and the water and thinking.” Mike finally pulled back, studying him with those thoughtful eyes.

“You're really taking us down memory lane, aren't you?” Despite his teasing tone, there was nothing but genuine love and fondness in the way he cupped Dolph's jaw. How his gaze wandered all over his face, like he couldn't get enough of him, with that sappy melted expression he's only ever seen on the rare occasion he's caught Mike staring when he thinks Dolph isn't looking. Like gooey melted chocolate. Sweeter than any candy. It made his heart sing and his cheeks warm, seeing _that_ look.

Like he was helplessly in love. Dolph could drown in it. 

“If you don't mind?” Mike kissed his nose and chuckled. “Anyway, that night I was drunk – we all were – and for some reason I was thinking about you. About what I wanted us to be and, well, I wrote something in the sand. It was small and silly...” Mike's gaze sharpened, an excited flicker he recognized as him getting an answer right on the game shows they watched while laying in bed. 

“I _knew_ it! I remember that because I kept wondering if I imagined seeing you messing around in the sand, and it drove me crazy for hours before I decided I was just too drunk and imagined things.” They were so close, nearly nose-to-nose. He slotted their lips together and gently turned them towards what he'd written a few hours ago. 

Breaking the kiss, he stepped away and moved a few feet in front of Mike. It took only a moment for him to see what he needed to: their initials inside a heart that he worked on longer than he cared to admit. Simple. Straightforward. Glancing between the writing and Dolph, his lips curled into that charming smile of his.

“Aw. How very 'high school crush' of you.” Normally he'd have a biting retort or two, but under the circumstances he merely huffed. This was it. This was when he would have to put those words of his to use. With a steadying breath, he slid his hands into his pocket, curling fingers around the little box. Searching for the right words to explain how he felt; where he saw them going. The little question sitting on the tip of his tongue.

Here goes nothing...

“I love this beach so much because our relationship – our history – is tied so closely with the sand and sea. We have collections of memories buried underneath the sand, and I hope you're excited to make more. With me. Because I am. I love you. Like, a lot. And have for a long time.” He could barely make out the way Mike's expression shifted from amused and affectionate to earnest and searching in the roll of the tide. Stupid sun was at the right angle to obscure parts of his face, but it was there. This analytical side Dolph thought was extremely sexy trying to figure out what was going on.

He squeezed the box in his hand and fought for his voice. Just please don't crack.

“This right here?” He gestured to their initials in the sand. He wanted to write out their names, but he wasn't all that good at writing in the sand. “This is all I wanted since we met. And I can't tell you how happy and crazy lucky I feel to get _this._ To have you.” He knew he was getting sappy but he couldn't help it. There was something about the man that turned him into this soft romantic. That inspired him to go on for centuries about the beauty of his smile or the color of his eyes. 

The way anyone would be fortunate to have someone like Mike by their side, and the utter disbelief he still had that it was _him_ who was the lucky soul.

That melted expression was back, and now he could see that his eyes were wet and glassy. Oh man. He didn't expect crying quite yet (and he was certain he would break first, honestly). If Mike cried, he would never be able to finish this damn proposal. 

“Every single day, I wake up in awe. I send thanks to whoever is above that you're who I get to see first thing in the morning. And really, I could list all the ways I'm the absolute luckiest man in the entire world – no, universe – but that look on your face has me dying to kiss you so...” Finally, he tugged on the box, hand getting stuck in the pocket for a moment before he managed to produce the purple box. Soft velvet. Keeping the ring he picked out last year safe. Hidden.

Mike's attention became solely focused on the box, hands coming to his mouth (like in every cheesy video he's ever seen) and there were the tears now. Running down his face in rivers. He took a second to just soak in this moment– to commit to memory the sounds and smells and the bright shining love in blue eyes. The look he received was one of hope and disbelief, and he could feel himself drowning in them.

And he wasn't even trying to fight for the surface.

They were probably a sight to be seen, standing a few feet from a horribly drawn heart and staring at each other like idiots, but for once he couldn't care what was going on outside of their moment. Of the man waiting on him to do or say something,

He considered kneeling – it's what pretty much everyone did – but he couldn't stand another second of the distance between them (small as it actually was). Of him trying to be _perfect._ Somehow, he managed to stumble closer, pressing their foreheads together, opening the box with a shuddered breath. The gold band glistened in the fading sunset, Mike's hands starting to shake from where there were still against his face.

“Will you marry me? So we can continue leaving a lifetime of memories here. On our beach.” Despite Mike's reactions so far, he still worried his lip and waited (impatiently) for Mike to sniffle and laugh, wiping tears away as he nodded quickly, holding out his hand to accept the ring.

“ _Yes._ Yes, I definitely will.” It was well past dark when they made it home. Every time he looked over at the passenger seat, Mike was admiring his hand with a bright smile. Twisting the ring (which thankfully fit perfectly) around and around, biting his lip after a moment. It made the sand trapped in his shorts worth it.

* * *

Back in present, he traced out those familiar lines in the sand, admiring his work before finishing his walk and beginning the trek back to the house. There were indeed many more incredible memories on this beach- their wedding being his absolute favorite. Many of them he could barely recall, lost to time and age, but if he stayed long enough he managed to uncover one or two. Like the seashells Mike loved to collect.

His breaths came a little shorter, no longer being in that great shape he was in back in college, and a little harder. This was part of the reason why he rarely made the trip down to the sands anymore. Soon, he would need an arm to hold on to in order to make any progress in the shifting earth beneath his sandals. Maybe one of the kids could come out, bring their kids along, and accompany him to the beach. Walk with him and listen to his rambling stories about the stupid things he got up to in his youth. The many things he did right in the same sacred place. 

He found it hard to visit the beach because he was afraid the memories, usually so pleasant, would drown him in sorrow. But, being here, venturing out onto the sand for the first time in months...it helped ease some of the ache in his chest. Lifted some of the weight off his shoulders. Brought some light into the dark corners of his mind. 

A figure stood at the end of the beach he was headed towards, seemingly waiting for him to make his way. And he couldn't help the dark thought that crossed his mind: wishing it would be Death here to take him on to be with his late husband once again, but he quickly realized it was actually an old friend. One he hasn't seen since his wedding, actually. 

John greeted him with a warm hug, squeezing and saying nothing for a long moment. They parted, Dolph doing his best to keep himself from crying on the spot. This was supposed to be a day without tears. Of memories and stories and love. But, of course, the present always caught up to him. And, well, it was a sad one. 

“I figured you'd be out here today. How have you been?” Though they were all close when they were in college, there was a special bond between John and Mike. Like brothers. Twins, even. Mike's passing last year was hard on them both, even though this was the first time he's actually gotten to see John in person. Most of any communication they had was through texting or email.

No hard feelings, though. That was life. Dolph was just happy to have him there. To have someone to talk to today.

“Oh, just living out this life. Breathing each morning and smiling at the sunrise he loved so much. Enjoying the blessing that is living by the beach.” John nodded, turning to look out over the water. “What brings you out to this corner of the world?”

After college, John decided to move across the country to Florida. Zack, once he graduated a few years later, followed along. California for Dolph was his home and he refused to move away from everything he knew – from the place he fell in love with – and it was an added bonus Mike didn't seem eager to get away either. It wasn't long after Zack left, actually, that everything for them came together. And the rest was, as they say, history. 

“The same thing that drew you to this beach today. I miss him. A lot.” After another beat of watching the waves lapping at the sand, Dolph turned away and led them towards the house. At least they wouldn't be alone for a little while. John was great company, and they could spend the night drinking and sharing stories. A perfect way to end the day, in his opinion.

“He'd be happy to see you here, you know. He loved you a lot.” John sighed, the kind that came from the weight of regrets, and looked incredibly sad. 

“I just...I wish I'd come out here more. Made more time. All I did was make excuses and find reasons why I couldn't leave even for a couple days. And now... I hate that I wasn't here when he died. That the last time I even saw him in person was your wedding. I mean, how long ago was that?”

* * *

Last year, around New Year's, Mike suffered what they thought was a minor heart attack. The doctors seemed certain things were fine. And then, as the months passed, Mike's health rapidly deteriorated. He could hardly walk down to the beach anymore. Getting up off the couch nearly had him in tears. His hands trembled and he seemed to always be in pain, even though he tried to keep that from Dolph. 

When they finally went and had the doctors run more tests – Mike stubbornly, of course – they found out the grave news. What seemed like a minor heart attack left more serious damages than they originally thought, and they were irreversible. And, not only that, he also developed an illness he couldn't recall the name of that attacked the immune and nervous systems, leaving the person weak and eventually without much mobility. Vulnerable to even the common cold. They told Dolph, who was sitting by Mike's side and petting his hair while he napped, that he might have two weeks left at the most. That there was damage to his brain and heart, things that they didn't pick up on at first. Swallowing the bitter acid in his throat, he asked if, had they known then, could anything have been done to save him. 

They were certain nothing could have stopped this. But they were also so certain nothing was wrong, so he took that with a single nod and returned his attention to the peaceful face unknowingly slipping away from him as the seconds ticked past. He kept his crying to himself, trying to be strong for Mike, who was barely dragging through the days. They enjoyed every sunrise and sunset they could, and Dolph would read to him from different books they both loved. When Mike napped in the afternoons, he would sit there with him and hold his hand, wondering when the day would come. Would he wake from that nap? Did he have a week more? 

They disagreed over whether or not they should tell their family and friends what was going on. Mike hated being weak, hated having people pity him, and refused (as much as he could, being a shell of himself) to let anyone be there. Dolph argued that they deserved to come see him, to say goodbye, but in the end, they compromised. Dolph called on friends and family, urging them to come visit but not telling them the truth. They made up a reason, insisting to anyone reluctant or hesitant that they should try their best to make the journey to California. 

In the end, most of their family made it out, a few of them whispering to each other in the kitchen when they thought Mike and Dolph were sleeping and pretending they didn't notice how rundown he looked. One of their daughters pulled Dolph aside one night, concern in her face, but it wasn't Dolph's to share. So he could only suggest asking her other father about it. 

John was one of the people who couldn't get away from whatever it was he needed to do, and while Dolph could see it hurt Mike not having his best friend there (John still joked it was Dolph, but he knew it was just different), he knew there was understanding. They had a lengthy phone call Dolph stepped out for, doing some dishes and keeping busy, and when he returned to the bedroom, there were tears they didn't speak about and the phone on the carpet. Probably dropped accidentally. 

They spent the last two days just talking to one another, laughing over stupid things and crying over happy memories. Bickering playfully and cuddling in the bed, flipping through the channels while Mike fought to stay awake. Obviously their sex life halted shortly after the heart attack, but there were still sparks when they kissed. Shivers when Mike brushed his fingertips over the smooth skin of his palm while they laid in bed. Dirty secrets whispered back and forth. Never leading anywhere but making his stomach twist and turn just as it did when they were younger. 

Forty years together and it always felt like the first time.

Mike's final moments were spent on the back porch, in his favorite chair, looking out over the ocean. He struggled more each day to draw full breaths, and his grip was nearly non-existent. Doctors suggested a wheelchair to get around easier, but Mike refused. He managed through pure stubbornness, and was rewarded with a breathtaking view for his final breaths. Eyes turned to him, the anger and fear and bitterness gone. Replaced with certainty, exhaustion, and so much love. 

“Thank you.” That wasn't what he expected to hear, so he tilted his head and fiddled with the collar of Mike's shirt. 

“For what, exactly? I've done a lot, you know.” His joke was met with a feeble rolling of eyes, his heart stuttering because he knew. Somehow, he knew that their time was over. 

“You have. Mostly for loving a fool like me. For being a great husband and friend.” A hand, trembling terribly, reached for him. That was the most he spoke in days, which was a bad sign. Dolph had to blink fifty times to make sure no tears fell. Even managed a smile and shake of his head as he took Mike's hand, pretending he didn't notice the shaking. The fact they couldn't actually hold hands anymore. 

“Yeah, well. Someone had to do it. I'm just happy I was the lucky one who got the job.” Most people's final moments were full of meaningful confessions and all the things they should have said. But that wasn't how they did things. They teased each other. They bickered.

If he didn't, Mike would worry over him. And he did a damn good job for two weeks making sure he didn't do that. 

“Just don't go running off trying to find someone else to save. Hmm?” He coughed, body jerking and breaths wheezing out of his lungs. Dolph swallowed thickly, pressing his lips to the wrinkled hand in his. Never taking his eyes off this beautiful wrinkled old prune he desperately loved.

“Never. You're enough for this life.” In other words, there would never be someone else for him. Mike shook his head.

“Well, maybe not never. If you want- If someone needs...” Dolph interrupted him with a stern look. If he honestly thought, in his seventies, that he would be interested in dating someone.

“Shut up and enjoy your damn sunset. Stop worrying about me.” And it wasn't much longer after that, Mike asking to lean on him while they both watched waves crash and birds fuss in the sky, that he finally went still. And it was the weirdest thing, feeling the life go out of someone. But he couldn't be too upset over it since it was what Mike wanted.

* * *

John's guilt was like a heavy cloud over him, draining him of color and life. And Dolph was tired of seeing sadness. Of guilt and pain and the cold loneliness of his home. Mike certainly wouldn't like them standing around moping over him instead of enjoying each other's company. That's how he lived his days, and it was no hardship sharing some of Mike's light with John. He pulled him into another hug, trying to squeeze out the shadows and soothe his regrets.

There were no words he could say, but gestures were just as powerful. And he was a great listener. 

“Sorry for ruining your anniversary. And your walk down memory beach. I should have just waited in your house.” His voice was thick, and when he pulled back he found tears sticking to thick lashes. Nothing a little wine and conversation couldn't help.

“Hey. No. I'm glad you're here. Believe it or not but I missed you too. And having you here makes my first anniversary without him a little better, you know? The house has been so quiet. So empty. So don't apologize.” And now there were tears in his eyes, threatening to break free. John coughed and shifted his stance. 

“Okay. Maybe we should head in. It's getting dark.” Dolph and John helped each other up the steps leading to his back yard and porch. A lone bird called above them.

“There is so much history still to go through. I hope you're up for a long night.” John chuckled, stopping Dolph from tripping up the stairs without saying a thing. “There are bottles of wine Mike was overly fond of. I'm thinking we crack one of those open, see what's left in the fridge, and exchange some stories. The person with the most embarrassing story of him gets five bucks.”

The night faded to morning, their stories and tears and laughter filling the normally silent house with life once more. And, at one point (perhaps with a little influence from the sweet wine), it was almost like there were three of them sitting there. Cracking up like old times. Teasing and pretending there weren't feelings hidden away in his heart while they sat on the beach. John even flicked a cracker at him, both of them falling into fits of laughter that left them coughing for a while like the old idiots they were.

It wasn't exactly how he saw this day going, but it was exactly what he needed.

  
  


_”And you'll see the sickly hands of time will write your final rhyme_

_And end a memory"_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Xx


End file.
